


In Retrospect

by Hien



Series: Atomwave [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Introspection, Legends, M/M, atomwave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11610861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hien/pseuds/Hien
Summary: All his life, Ray's followed his heart more than his brains, and while it's landed him in trouble more times than he could count, ultimately he doesn't regret a thing. After all, his heart's taken him to quite a few nice places: the ATOM suit, the Legends, Mick...As for the regular beatings along the way...well, he figures that's part of being a Legend.





	In Retrospect

**Author's Note:**

> So....I like them so much I had to write more. And I've always loved companion fics with the same story told from different POVs but never got around to writing one, so it seemed fitting.  
> This is therefore 'Reflexivity' in Ray's POV. Enjoy :)

* * *

Ray Palmer knew he could never regret this even before Rip had finished pitching them the idea.

Fulfilling destiny? Being remembered as a _legend_? Heck, Rip basically wrote that speech for him!

…Except he actually _did_ , didn’t he? Write it. To lure them. Trick them.

And Ray should’ve known, because that was the way it had always been – he was expendable. Just another random occurrence in a sea of nameless faces. If he died, history wouldn’t be impacted all – and honestly, he should’ve been used to that one, because the World still thought him dead, and nothing had changed.

The one thing he’d never been good at was holding grudges though – except against his idiotic brother, but Sydney deserved that; Rip didn’t, he’d been too broken already. Plus he’d admit he’d always been a sucker for a good sap story – curse you, Walt Disney!

Besides, it ended up giving him the one thing he’d always secretly truly desired: the chance to be a part of something, a team. Not an occasional outsider like he’d always felt with Team Arrow, not a friendly visiting ally as he was with Team Flash—no, with the Legends, he was part of the team, a founding member—he _was_ a Legend.

He thought it oddly fitting that they’d taken up to calling themselves that, too. Felt good, like payback – not that Ray really believed in payback, it was more about fairness and…justice and…yeah, okay, payback felt good sometimes.

And he was proud of standing side by side with the other Legends – well, the ones that remained.

Rip may have lied to them at first, but his heart had always been in the right place, even if he could’ve often gone about explaining things a lot better – but the man introduced Ray to a space-ship and time-travel, so his inner nerd has long since died and gone to nerd heaven, he’ll forgive a lot in light of that – even stranding him in the Jurassic period.

Sara, aka the White Canary, was strong and funny and smart and confident and fearless and Ray thought that if he’d known her when he was a child, he’d have thought to himself: “I want to be just like her when I grow up!” – and he completely owed up to that. Sara knew how to break and how to mend – most people only knew one or the other – and that eventually made her the best possible leader the Legends could’ve hoped for.

Jax and Professor Stein – aka Firestorm – were as fascinating as they were reassuring as they were amusing, and Ray knew very early in that he would never tire from interacting with either one of them – or _both_ of them, because when they merged it was always something to behold! (And the nerd in him had never recovered, truly.) It added something to the atmosphere to walk into the engine room and be greeted by a, “Ray! What up, bro?” (although when he’d tried to reciprocate, Jax had winced, shaken his head and clapped a hand on his shoulder apologetically, “Don’t, Ray, you can’t pull that off, man.”). It was equally as reassuring at times in the lab to hear a, “Raymond, do be careful with the inverted capacitors, we don’t want a repeat of last week’s incident, do we?” (no one had treated him like a pupil in so long that even though he was annoyed by it, it also brought back good memories).

And then there was Mick Rory, aka Heat Wave. A reformed criminal, thief, arsonist, time-bounty-hunter. How could he even go about explaining Mick? He was a puzzle Ray had been working on since day one – that he suspected he’d still be working on years down the road, and he did love the prospect.

Mick would let him get beaten up without moving a muscle, but then refuse to escape without him. Mick would call him an idiot practically every time they spoke, but would narrow his eyes and reach for the heat gun when someone _else_ did. And Mick had taken his place at the Oculus. And then Snart (he’d have wanted to get to know him well enough to call him Leonard) had taken _his_ place.

Now Ray did have a tendency to shoulder the blame for nearly everything that passed his way, but he realized that just as he’d made his decision to stay, so had Mick made his decision, and so had Snart made _his_ decision. He _did_ think that Snart would’ve been more useful to the team than him, that Snart’s savvy was worth more than his ATOM suit, but he understood that other people’s decisions were not his fault.

So he made it a point not to skirt around the issue with Mick – to offer thanks, to offer condolences, but never pretend like the whole deal should be slapped with a ‘Voldemort’ status. (Although Snart felt more like a Snape—not that Ray had ever wondered which roles the Legends would have in such a setting…ahem.)

But Mick would roll his eyes, drink more beer, and say, “You don’t owe me anything, Haircut.”

And Ray can’t _not_ say anything to that, because it’s only part of the story. “Well…it’s true but…you did save my life!” he insisted on pointing out each time, smiling brightly because there was just something flattering about a criminal, thief, arsonist, time-bounty-hunter, reformed as he may be, choosing to save your life – at the cost of _his_ , no less.

It’s a gift, one Ray clearly intended to never squander – Mick must _never_ truly regret having saved him. Plus Ray knew that the (reformed) thief wasn’t as evil as he liked to pretend to be – he knew Mick cared about the team, had even gotten that admission out loud, and that was yet another thing to feel proud and happy about: that Mick had opened up to _him_ , of all people (he’d have thought he’d be closer to Sara, what with them being as strong and scary as each other).

“You read too much into things,” Mick informed him as he reached for another beer – but Ray beat him to it and just handed him one, smiling in satisfaction as he’d anticipated right. “I just wanted to be the one to flip the Time Pigs the finger,” he drawled on regardless as he looked at the bottle – and for a second Ray wondered if he’d ever looked at another _person_ with the same fondness he displayed in that moment.

“Tomato, to _ma_ to,” Ray dismissed, chuckling as next time, he should go with potato. Mick cringed and Ray tilted his head to the side. “You don’t like to be complimented, do you?”

He heard Mick’s ‘you’re an idiot’ as loud as his actual spoken reply, “You think people ever lined up for it much in my life?”

“They should’ve,” Ray insisted, because clearly, once you got to know him, Mick was just as worthy of attention, trust and compliments as anyone else – as any other hero— _Legend_. And clearly, not enough people had made an effort to, because his hand never failed to twitch over his holster whenever he was complimented.

Ray made it a personal side-quest to help him with that.

“I’ll never understand how you made it to adulthood,” Mick shrugged as he turned back to his beer.

It made Ray stupidly proud to be told that—to have a puzzle tell him he didn’t understand him. Even if he realized Mick most likely meant it as an insult, not a compliment. But that was the thing with Mick: if he didn’t like what you said he’d twist your arm, if you truly spoke out of line he’d punch you, if you got yourself into trouble he’d let you get punched, he’d insult you at every other turn, but he would never _truly hurt you_. Or at the very least, that was how Ray felt. Mick wasn’t tender, sweet, caring or any other word like that, but he wasn’t going to let them down.

When the _Waverider_ picked Ray from the Jurassic, Mick was outside of his room when he stepped out all refreshed, and briefly looked him over before punching his shoulder, grunting in satisfaction when that didn’t topple him over, and simply said, “Nice haircut, Haircut.”

Ray had never known it was possible to like a nickname so much. Yes, he was very much aware of the fact that Mick hadn’t meant it in a nice way at first, but it wasn’t (entirely) the case anymore. Then again, Mick had nicknames for pretty much everyone, so Ray didn’t feel all that special (and no, he wasn’t _overly_ sorry about that).

But in retrospect, it was probably at that particular iteration of ‘Haircut’ that Ray realized Mick made his chest feel tight and warm – and his lips pull in a smile automatically, but that much was in his nature, he smiled at anyone he cared about.

It wasn’t as scary or life-changing a revelation as one could surmise.

He honestly didn’t think anything could come out of it, and he felt content being the one on the team Mick spent the most time with— _trusted_ the most, he hoped, although he knew that Mick was the type of person who likely didn’t trust anyone, and that was how he was still alive.

He didn’t like it when Mick nicknamed their newest teammate, Nate, ‘Pretty’ – although he realized that much as Snart had called him ‘Pretty Boy’, it _was_ actually derogatory, as if saying ‘you’re not much more than a pretty face’ – and Ray felt horrible for thinking that, because he liked Nate, he finally had someone to have extreme nerd-out moments with!

Nate was someone who could understand and add to all his geeky references, who could have debates for hours on end without _needing_ to win, just enjoying the knowledge that they both knew what the other was talking about. Someone who called him _Dr._ Palmer, at least until he’d agreed to call him Ray, but who respected him as a scientist. Someone who…well. Had ended up with the powers Ray had been hoping for—the _purpose_ Ray had been hoping for.

It wasn’t Nate’s fault—of course not, never, Ray knew that, he’d never _blamed_ him for any of it.

Ray just…it…it wasn’t meant to happen that way. So he moved on. Indulged in another geek-out session.

And _screwed up_.

There didn’t exist a scale to accurately represent how much so. Because then he had to help destroy the ATOM suit, the very thing that made him who he was, worthy of being a Legend—before the ATOM suit, he’d been only Ray Palmer, CEO. Without the ATOM suit, Rip would have never even bothered to learn his name—he would have never met the other Legends. Without the ATOM suit, he brought nothing to the table.

And he knew it was a horrible, _horrible_ thing to think, but a part of him was glad for the zombie outbreak, for the chance to be _useful_ by working on a cure.

Yet Mick…Mick still had faith in him. He trusted him to _find_ said cure, and when that failed at first he’d knocked him out but _didn’t_ eat his brains, so in zombie-Mick terms, that had to be _at least_ a statement of ‘I don’t hate you, might even like you a bit sometimes’ and for a moment, Ray feels useful, and needed.

For a moment.

Then the epidemic was cured, the time anomaly was taken care of, and the doubts were back.

And Mick handed him the cold gun, saying he was looking for another partner.

In retrospect, that was most likely when he realized he was in love with Mick Rory.

It must’ve showed on his face, because Mick frowned and said, “Just don’t even think about hugging me, or you’ll see firsthand what happens when I fire my heat gun at it.”

Ray moved from deep personal revelations to acute scientific curiosity (or ‘geek-out’, as it’s known in certain circles) at these words. “Why? What happens when the guns collide?”

He’ll never admit out loud that he liked the groan Mick made at this as he opened another beer bottle – leaving him with two at this point.

Soon enough the training started, which Ray originally thought wasn’t really necessary, but the cold gun did require some getting used to. A lot of it, in fact. The cargo bay’s floor was soon a resting ground for frozen beer bottles.

“No shame in calling it quits,” Mick huffed from his spot on a nearby crate, beer pack protectively held to his chest.

Ray looked back at him, still as determined as when they’d begun, and said, “I won’t let you down.” Because he really, really, really, _really_ didn’t want to do that ever.

Instead of taking it as the sort-of declaration it was maybe meant to be, Mick rolled his eyes, pointing his bottle at him. “Instead of caring what a criminal—”

“ _Reformed_ ,” Ray quickly added, because no one was allowed to take that from Mick, not even himself.

“—thinks about you, spend more time worrying about not letting _yourself_ down, Haircut,” Mick finished all the same as though he’d never interrupted him.

Ray frowned, wondering how to explain to him just what he meant to him, but _without_ handing over his heart to be stomped (or more likely burned) in the process. “What does it say about my life that you’re the least complicated person I’ve got around me right now?”

Mick didn’t even need to think about the answer. “It says we’re gonna need more beer.”

And as he smiled at him, thinking to himself how perfect and _Mick_ that answer was, Ray turned around and aimed the gun back at the beer bottles, managing only marginally better, but feeling lifted up anyway.

That good mood continued throughout their next mission, with his personal highlight being the theft of a handful of Presidential Jelly Beans. Mick looked at him as though he couldn’t understand his joy at doing something so _easy_ , but Ray had always been…a model citizen—his friends still made fun of him on the rare occasions he _jaywalked_ (although really jaywalking should be taken seriously, as it could cause irreparable damage to both victim and driver, and—getting off track). Stealing something, furthermore _in the White House_ , which he infiltrated _with a gun_ , sent him back to childish excitement.

Doing it _with Mick_ …well, it made it _special_.

Of course following that, nothing went according to plan, because when did it ever?

They almost died, too, because when did they not? And Ray almost gave up, because with the ATOM suit, he’d have figured that bomb out in _seconds_ , would have disarmed it even faster, but without it he was just…

“You’re Ray Palmer, you can science your way out of anything,” Mick told him with certainty as he held his look.

And Ray’s eyes widened, because he’d tried to be Snart for him, thinking that was what he’d want, but clearly it wasn’t. Mick was okay with _him_ —with Ray Palmer. “I’m Ray Palmer. I can science my way out of anything…” he repeated back, as though the words and the name were foreign to him. But it worked. More than any other pep talk he’d ever been given, it worked. Bomb diffused. They’d live to die another day.

Yet Ray hated that even though he was supposed to be an inventor, what he did most these days was take things apart. As they were walking to the extraction point, he frowned as he looked at the parts of the cold gun he could salvage, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry means we’re alive,” Mick replied pragmatically. And Ray must’ve been too honest in the way he looked at him, because he added, “You hug me, I’ll roast you,” as he picked up his pace.

Ray’s smile only grew wider as he thanked him quietly all the same.

As soon as they were back onboard, he locked himself up in the lab, determined to rebuild the cold gun. Despite Mick’s dismissal, he knew that he cared about the weapon – it was after all a reminder of his best friend. And Ray didn’t want to go down in Mick Rory History as the man who destroyed the reminder of Mick’s best friend. He may not have been Cisco, but they thought alike at times, and he’d observed the gun enough that he managed to reconstruct it, although it left him drained and exhausted, falling asleep with his head pillowed on his folded arms as he so often had while working on the ATOM suit.

The familiar telltale sound of the cold gun in action woke him up with a dignified, “Whu—what? I wasn’t sleeping!” in time to see Mick look in somewhat satisfaction at what he’d just tested the gun on (oh no, was that the oscillator Jax had been working on? Oops…). “I fixed it,” he said proudly—and so not fishing for a compliment, really.

“I noticed,” Mick said while his eyes said ‘you’re an idiot’ again before he sighed. “Food. Rest. Now,” he said as he lobbed the gun back at him.

Ray just about deftly caught it, surprising even himself, but then again he was more focused on the almost caring look in the other’s eyes—well, calling it ‘caring’ might’ve been going too far; it just…wasn’t indifferent. “Mick,” he called him back, “does this mean we’re still partners?” he asked him hopefully, bracing himself for any reply but needing to know.

Mick didn’t turn around and grunted, but not his ‘I’m going to maim you alive grunt’, so Ray felt that vice get out of his chest and smiled happily. “You hug me, I’ll break your arms.”

And as Ray moved his arms behind his back to keep them safe, a part of him thought that it would be a fair price to pay to give in at least once.

Fate must have been trying to apologize for everything that had happened to him before, because soon after, not only did they go back to the West, but they got their hands on dwarf-star alloy. Enough to remake his suit all over—more than once, more than twice, more than thrice!!—and even work on side-projects, so he quite happily made his way to Mick’s quarters shortly after they got back into the time-stream.

“I think I can use the dwarf-star to make the heat gun more powerful for short blasts!” he said grandly from the door.

“Don’t you have a suit to build?” Mick asked him after barely a beat – and Ray’s smile didn’t diminish, because that wasn’t a dismissal, or a ‘mind your own business’ as someone who’s not familiar with Mick Rory might think; Mick just asked this because he knew how much getting his suit back meant to Ray.

It would really take a stronger man than him not to fall in love again at that.

Mick sighed once more, shaking his head. “I’m going to regret asking, aren’t I?”

“It’s just a way of thanking you—that I figure you won’t totally hate,” Ray quickly replied, not wanting to come across as _too_ eager – although he feared that ship had sailed long ago. “It’s…the _only_ thing I could think of that you wouldn’t totally hate, actually. Well I mean I did think about replicating some more booze, or getting those doughnuts you seem to love, but it would be _Gideon_ doing the actual work, not me, so how is that a fitting ‘thank you’? And then I figured—”

“Okay,” Mick said loudly, and Ray could’ve kissed him for putting an end to the rambling.

Not that he thought about kissing him. Much.

Mick was averse to the slightest touch, he doubted he’d be much for intimacy—much less with a man, in all likelihood. So Ray preferred not to think about it, because the problem with these kinds of thoughts was that you ended up wanting to act on them, compare them to reality, and that was usually the point where everything went down the drain.

Ray really, really, really, _really_ didn’t want his partnership with Mick to go down the drain.

Snapping himself out of that digression, he repeated his affirmation, almost surprised the other man had said ‘yes’ that easily.

“I don’t totally hate the idea,” Mick grudgingly conceded before taking a few steps towards him and looming more menacingly. “But I’ll be looking over your shoulder the whole time, and if you so much as nick a wire—”

“You’ll do something very painful and possibly permanent to me?” Ray couldn’t help but supply, not even fearing for his life because somehow along the way he’d come to view Mick’s threats as _endearments_.

“You have a serious problem, Haircut,” Mick helpfully informed him, and really, he was right on so many levels with that one.

True to his threat, Mick became a presence at his back while he worked on the heat gun, and Ray…Ray loved every second of it. True, Mick didn’t participate in the conversation, as Ray had a habit of talking excitedly whenever he was working on something that captivated him, but neither did he tell him to shut up, and he even handed him a couple of tools and a drink once. He purposefully didn’t work as quickly as he could to keep these moments lasting, but then again he was also excited to see the results so when they tested it, he felt as he had at science fairs as a child.

“I’ve had worse,” Mick said finally, but Ray knew that if he didn’t like the result, the gun would be aimed at _him_ now. Mick must’ve picked on his nervousness, because he asked, “What now?”

Ray looked between him and the gun, wondering how not to be too forward and then throwing that out of the window, because subtlety had never ever been a strong _suit_ of his (and please note the pun, he’d been wanting to use that one for some time now). “Are we…still partners?” And before he can stop himself, the rambling starts again. “I mean…if all goes well, I’ll soon be done rebuilding my suit, and I realize that the whole ‘partners’ deal was mostly linked to the cold gun, because it’s not like you’d let just anyone use it, but I think we work well together, and—”

“Why is it so important to you to get someone else’s validation? Is that the only way you can feel good about yourself?” Mick asked him shrewdly.

Ray felt the breath kicked out of him by the on-point question, and closed his mouth as he thought of how to reply to it. Was it? That important to him? Thinking back on it…when was the last time he’d done something— _created_ something—just for himself? Not as a tool to help others, not as a way to make them proud, not as a mean to make his name known, but just…for _himself_? Just because he _wanted to_?

But then he realized: he _wanted_ to help. If enhancing the heat gun made Mick happy(-ish) and in turn made Mick think that Ray was good to have around, then of course it would make Ray happy, so he _was_ helping himself. “Not ‘someone else’s’—yours,” he replied confidently.

“Sounds even worse,” Mick noted, but not cruelly.

“You’re always honest—bluntly, _painfully_ so, but you’re someone I know I can take at face value,” Ray insisted, and that was about the closest he could get without being _too_ honest.

Apparently, it was the right thing to say, because Mick once more sighed as he rested his gun on his shoulder and said, “Look, a gun is just that—a gun. A tool. Partnerships aren’t really based on tools, are they?”

Ray’s fingers were practically itching to put that arm-breaking threat to the test. “I hug you, you’ll hurt me?” he asked with a happy smile.

“Damn right,” Mick confirmed, but Ray was sure he bit back a chuckle on that one and beat a hasty retreat to hide it, so it still felt like a victory.

Just because the heat gun’s upgrades were finished didn’t mean Mick was done watching him work, and Ray felt so happy he could’ve sung—but he didn’t, because hello? _Weird_! Or maybe just in his head. Like before, Mick didn’t actually talk beyond grunts and commands for more beer from the replicator, but he was _there_ , and it was all that counted. Ray had been used to brainstorming alone, working in the lab alone, fighting alone, just generally _being_ _alone_ , and that simple presence was all he needed.

When the suit was ready Ray almost kissed it, but instead he turned back to Mick with a triumphant smile.

“Looks as stupid as it did before,” Mick said solemnly around a mouthful of bagel. “Good job.”

From the outside it looked like an insult, but Ray knew better, so he grinned even wider and turned back to the suit, feeling the same jitters and excitement he did the first time he prepared to try it on.

It would have to wait though, because Jax dropped by to say dinner was ready, and, “Ray, that suit is a sight for sore eyes!” he said truthfully.

“Thanks Jax!” Ray replied brightly. Jax took it upon himself to tell everyone in the galley the ATOM suit 2.0 was ready, and it felt good to hear them cheer on him like that. Looking at Nate, he then remembered the _other_ side-project he’d wanted to work on, and with a little extra time and tweaking on his hands, he created a protective combat suit for him – making just a couple of necessary adjustments from his drawing.

Sara interrupted their major bro-and-geeking-out session minutes after he showed it to Nate, but in her defense, she’d let them know they were going back to 2017 to team up with Oliver and Barry—and did she mention _aliens_?!

A team-up between Team Arrow, Team Flash and the Legends…plus an all-powerful _alien_ from an alternate Earth—teaming up to fight _evil_ aliens.

The nerds in each team were dying of glee inside at the implications.

Luckily, he even managed to find a moment with Cisco to show him the new suit and agreed to discuss upgrades – plus, he wanted to ask him about the heat and cold guns, to really know all there was to know about them.

Then there was Barry…and telling him about Snart’s sacrifice, and finding out about the speedster’s meddling with time. And Ray couldn’t believe it—well, he _did_ believe it, who would joke about something like that, plus Cisco obviously wasn’t talking to him, but he couldn’t believe he’d _let himself_ do it. True, he may not have known the Flash all that well, but he…expected better from him.

He got captured by the aliens then however—well, first brainwashed, _then_ captured, to be precise. Stuck in an illusion that felt wrong from the start, fighting his way out to end up on an alien space-ship—very cool, although he had little time to dwell on the awesomeness of it as Digg was hurt and there was that ever-present death-threat hanging over their heads.

There was a massive team-up battle in the end, though, because what else, right? It’s for moments like these that they signed up! Then there was a commendation ceremony conducted by the new President. Then there were celebratory drinks, and major nerd-sessions with Cisco. They were almost sad it was over, really. But then it was everyone back to their home base, and to the Legends, that meant the time-stream.

And more time to think about what just happened, and for it to come crashing down with brutal exhaustion.

“We screw up on a regular basis, Haircut. Part of the deal. Red’s no different,” Mick’s voice suddenly told him from the door to the lab, where he was working on those upgrades for his suit.

For a second he toyed with the idea of pretending to be oblivious, but really only a second, because he knew Mick reaching out like this was a maybe once-in-a-lifetime deal and he didn’t want to jinx it.

He realized that nobody was perfect, that everyone screwed up at some point. But screw-ups were usually _accidental_ – theirs certainly were. But Barry? Barry had _willingly_ screwed up – done something he _knew_ he wasn’t supposed to, something he _knew_ would have consequences that he had no way of anticipating or preventing—and he didn’t care, he’d done it anyway. “Is it stupid of me, to expect more from Barry? Or Oliver?”

“Yep,” Mick confirmed, sitting down in his usual spot and propping his boots on the table, far enough not to bother him as he worked. “But don’t stop. It’s part of who you are.”

Ray thought to himself at this that one of these days, he should really learn to stop falling in love with him over again every time he said something nice. “I was on an alien spaceship!” he said instead, steering the conversation to safer ground.

“You’ve been on one for the better part of a year,” Mick reminded him, clearly unimpressed.

“Okay, yes, but with _alien-looking_ aliens!” Ray insisted, although he had to admit he was slightly disappointed that they’d looked like something you’d see in 1960s' comic books—although wait a moment…maybe those comics had actually been inspired by the _real deal_? Oh the world of possibilities this opened…

“So what did the freaks do to you guys, exactly?” Mick wondered with a frown. “Probing and shit?”

“Mind probing, yeah—we’re still not entirely clear what they were after for sure, maybe a reason why we were fighting them side by side with metahumans…They trapped us in a weird shared illusion but…it just felt wrong,” Ray recounted, crossing his arms over his chest. “We all knew it right away, which begs the question—could their techniques really be that easily seen through, based on the rest of their technology that we’ve observed?”

“You lost me,” Mick stopped him as he opened a beer.

Ray snapped out of his musings, better explaining himself. “I’m just saying that they’re obviously quite technologically advanced, much more than us yet—”

“That was a nice way of saying I don’t care, Haircut,” Mick helpfully supplied, with a small grin that made Ray stop in his tracks lest he made (even more of) an idiot of himself. He got up to leave at that, pointing a finger in the ATOM’s suit’s general direction. “You missed a spot of alien gut on the suit.”

Ray could only frown in horror as his head snapped back to his creation and he called back, “What—no I didn’t, where? Mick! _Where_?” But Mick was gone and Ray was left to battle imaginary alien guts and very not imaginary feelings of fondness.

Then the Legends got back into their usual groove. Nate stole his spot as Elliott Ness in the twenties, then Ray momentarily lost his suit again when they scared George Lucas out of making movies, they found Rip only to lose him to the Legion of Doom (Sara may complain all she likes, Nate picked up a catchy name for them!), they saved the United States of America, although brainwashed Rip made it seriously difficult, and Ray would live out his life very happily if he was never stuck in shrunk form ever again. He felt they could all use the downtime, but when he pitched the idea of a Christmas dinner to Sara, he was half-surprised to see her onboard so quickly.

That everyone – including Mick – played along was further proof of how tired they were, but he truly felt like part of something, and he thought that they probably felt the same.

He even gave Mick the infamous rat he’d managed to capture – he wasn’t so scary, once he wasn’t about three times your size anymore.

All of that was nothing compared to Camelot though. Camelot, knights, round tables, enchanters—the dreams of his childhood! Before science had sucked him in, his nerdiness had been all about these old tales; having the opportunity to visit them, _participate_ in them…how could he ever deny himself? For once, he resolved to do something for himself, even if he knew he wasn’t helping the team—wasn’t really helping anyone but himself, he was aware, and even then, he was risking his life more than anything.

Selfishness felt oddly pleasing, he’d admit to that.

Deep down inside, he believed that the team wouldn’t turn their backs on him, so he was pleased, surprised, but not downright shocked when they showed up too. The shock came later, when Jax told him that Mick went against Sara because he refused to leave him behind.

“You hug me, I’ll make you wish you’d died during that battle,” Mick warned him gruffly when he stopped by him in the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Ray replied anyway, thinking to himself that if this went on, one of these days he’d stop holding back on account of the threats and see what would happen.

They had more pressing matters to deal with however, such as Rip’s de-brainwashing. Having him back was…well, it was good, undeniably, it was amazing – but also a bit underwhelming…like somehow he didn’t fit with their team anymore—which was a strange thing to say, because there would have never _been_ a team in the first place if it hadn’t been for Rip Hunter.

But…under Rip, they’d been a bunch of people fighting the same enemy.

Under Sara…they were a team fighting _together_.

Ray almost felt guilty for feeling like that.

Then again…Rip did get him to walk on the moon. The _moon_. Of course, then he was also stranded on said moon with Eobard Thawne of all people. He definitely hated that he respected the man’s scientific knowledge. But despite what a lot of people seemed to think, Ray’s survival instincts worked just fine, so he bit the bullet and teamed up with Thawne to get back home. Letting him go afterwards, that had been survival at work, too. Ray was alone in the brig when he confronted him; if he’d missed, Thawne would’ve killed him—opting not to shoot, that had saved his life. He wasn’t under any delusions that it would buy him a pass for the next time they’d meet, but at least there would _be_ a next time.

Plus, again— _moon_.

The worst was yet to come though. Oh there was some very good first, such as meeting Tolkien. But then it went from bad to worse. The Legion seemed always one step ahead, and they got a new recruit in the shape of one Leonard Snart, from a few years before they’d met.

Ray couldn’t help but be scared. Scared that Mick would choose his best friend over them (over _him_ ), that they couldn’t make him feel like he belonged with the team (that Ray wasn’t good enough). He even considered telling him how he felt, for a moment, but then the fear was back and he figured that could just as well backfire and become the reason Mick would leave, so he kept quiet.

It wasn’t so long after that that they were introduced to future versions of themselves. Well, not all of them—it really didn’t escape his notice that he wasn’t among the group, and it created a sickening twisting feeling in his stomach. Future Mick seemed to notice, but didn’t say anything – Ray purposefully didn’t look at him anyway, or even his Mick, because there was such a thing as too many Micks.

Except he couldn’t look away anymore when he saw Snart drive an icicle through Mick’s heart—and it didn’t matter _which_ Mick this was, Ray had seen someone he loved die in front of him before and he _never_ wanted a repeat of the experience, and damn it he didn’t deserve that, and he should’ve said _something_ , he should’ve _told him_ —

A bright flame flashed past him and Snart was sent tumbling to the ground, and Ray looked up to see Mick— _his_ Mick,  he knew, somehow he _knew_ —standing there with a frown and his heat gun still trained on his best friend. The best friend he’d just shot down to protect Ray.

“You’re alive!” Ray exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and reaching for him.

A hand stopped him. “You hug me, I’ll kill you,” Mick said indisputably as he kept going.

Ray wasn’t deterred. “Okay, later,” he conceded – it was just a respite, because he _needed_ to feel that he was really alive, sometimes trusting your eyes just wasn’t enough anymore.

He was hard pressed to really believe it, but they did come out on top, eventually and against all odds. Sara saved them.

Thawne’s non-existence caught up with him, and they resolved to place Merlyn, Darhk and Snart back where—and when—they belonged.

They were all incredibly proud of their Captain when Sara dropped off Darhk, even knowing full well that it would eventually cost her sister her life. But they’d seen the disastrous consequences messing with time could have.

Ray handled Merlyn, with his suit (no such thing as ‘too safe’), and as soon as he got back, the _Waverider_ made the stop to drop off Snart – their last captive – and as Mick walked down with him, Ray retreated to the lab, but it was only to better monitor the cameras to make sure Mick was coming _back_ , eventually. He was just trying to be a bit more discreet about it than staying in the hangar would’ve been.

He felt like he could breathe again when he saw Mick walking back on the _Waverider_ through the security video feed.

He then busied himself by removing his suit, and was barely done when Mick walked in. Turning back to him, he just smiled, not really sure what to say as he knew he wouldn’t appreciate being asked if he was ‘okay’. It then occurred to him that it was the first time he’d truly looked at him since he’d thought he’d seen him die, and he couldn’t help but let out a breath in relief at that – because he was really _there_ , wasn’t he?

Without saying a word and in his brusque way, Mick was in front of him barely a moment later, with a gloved hand reaching for the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss and although it was all but gentle, Ray thought to himself that it was a billion times better than a hug. Mick was pressing him against him in an almost bruising way, but that forceful possession was exactly how Ray had imagined he would kiss, so he just kissed back, grabbing a handful of his shirt to keep him close with one hand and letting the other settle on his back. Then the kiss shifted and Ray moaned at how _gentle_ it was—and how badly it left him wanting _so much more_.

“So…I hug you, you don’t kill me anymore?” he couldn’t help but ask, barely pulling back and just grinning as Mick kissed him quiet.

But Ray was feeling _giddy_ , and there were things he wanted to say, so he took that chance again. “We saved the world, none of us died—well, not _us_ us, although I suppose the other ‘us’ do count, what I felt when I saw you— _other_ you—die was real for sure, but _we’re_ all still in one piece, and now _this_ …” He had to trail off at his, eyes trailing back down to Mick’s lips happily.

He could _hear_ the ‘make your point already’ in the raised eyebrow he was treated to.

“That’s a pretty good way to end the day!” Ray said simply as he leaned into the hand that was still on his neck, absently looking forward to Mick doing that again but with his gloves off in the near future.

Mick snorted—the ‘you drive me crazy but I don’t hate you’ snort—and then looked at him pointedly. “Sure—pity no one’ll ever know about the heroics, right?”

Ray knew he was testing him, asking him, in his own way, if he’ll need to fight his hero complex. “I’ve given it a lot of thought lately, and I don’t care if no one ever hears about the things we’ve done, or even remembers my name—I know what’s important.” And he did, he truly did; after all this time, he finally realized it. “I have a team now, somewhere I belong—and I see it now: that’s all that really matters. As long as I’m useful, and wanted, I’m happy. Plus—”

Mick cut him off with a warning frown at this, “Don’t.”

Ray absolutely did not care about the threat – or believe in it, for that matter. “I’ve got _you_ , so really, what else is important?” he finished smartly, putting on his best smile.

Mick stared at him for a moment, probably only a couple of seconds that felt so much longer, and slightly shook his head. “You’re an idiot, Ray.”

To Ray, he might’ve just as well have said something along the lines of ‘I don’t hate you, so let’s stay partners for a while’ and it felt like the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him.

Then Mick kissed him again and Ray really, really, really, _really_ hoped that Time would let them enjoy this for a moment longer before they had to go back out and fix it.

In retrospect, that was probably when he’d jinxed their chances of having some real downtime, so that was when he learned to just stop thinking in these moments.

Mick approved, for once.

* * *

 


End file.
